The Point of Living
by Love to be Curious
Summary: “She is what you live for. You belong to her, and so, when she betrayed you, you are the one that suffers.” Will drew in a shaky breath, the night air clinging to his lungs. "And so I will become like Davy Jones?" W/E and Jack
1. Chapter 1: Restless

(OT: So I haven't written in ages and this story popped into my head while I was supposedly busy at work. Anyway, it starts out with some long ponderings from Will, but I think they're worthwhile if you read them. It's all quite important and relevant to the rest of the story. I'll update when possible, and I'm trying my best to feel out the characters all over again. It's been a long while, and it's strange enough writing in third person again... When I have been writing in first lately. Please leave reviews with any comments! Thanks and Enjoy!)

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There were always evenings like these, when Will restlessly lay awake, his hands folded behind his head, his mind elsewhere as he stared at the ceiling of the captain's quarters. He usually thought of his wife and their short time upon the golden shores of Shipwreck Cove, her lithe body enticing him, her lustrous hair glinting in the light as she danced around him.

Tonight was different.

Tonight, he dwelled over Davy Jones' demise and the day his own palpitating heart was ripped from his chest. Absentmindedly rubbing the black scar, Will propped himself up and leaned against the wall, his feet draped over the edge of his bunk. He remembered the way the slimy bastard gripped at his chest, as though his soul had shriveled along with his heart, and he knew, by instinct or otherwise, the former captain had rejoined his lover once he toppled into the swirling sea. However, Will couldn't help but wonder if there was a place beyond the ocean for Davy Jones. The immortal weren't supposed to die. The immortal were... Everlasting, perpetual, and bound to roam the Earth until everyone they knew perished. But that wasn't how it worked for Davy, was it? He was as special case; a macabre and unique case, to be sure.

Instead, the man had fallen into the harsh and changing sea, purely because he was in love with it. Now what? Was there a hell, as the Bible proposed? Did Davy arrive in his own locker, no longer littered with writhing tentacles and forced to reside as a normal man in that place of torture and punishment? A place where there was no hope, no ease from the pain of losing everything dear to him? Then again, did Davy Jones' possess anything dear to him at all? Perhaps the locket that now slumbered in the music chamber was still a prized possession, but Will rather doubted it.

His mind drifted away from Jones' and the foul deeds committed, and wandered back to Elizabeth, once again thinking of what would happen once Elizabeth died…Once their children and their children's children died... Will would be the only one left, unless his heart was returned by the bayou goddess, which seemed unlikely when it came down to it. He would have to live with the sorrow of losing his loved ones, even Jack, who, through all his faults, still managed to be his friend in one way or another.

Will would be alone.

The thought of life and death circled again and again as if he were facing the gallows in a matter of hours.

Even if there were distant descendents of himself to come, Will would not be able to bear watching his wife's lovely, intelligent eyes or slightly crooked smile be passed on through the generations, and he would not be able to explain his ethereal term aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ and his equally ill-fate of living forever. And in that case, Will considered suicide. Or rather, Will _decided _on suicide, no matter how much his absent heart protested. The ache of emotional torment would be too much, he knew. It would cause him unequivocal pain that no woman or journey could absolve. So he would stab his own heart, by that time hopefully he would've found a captain to replace him, and he would soar away to a place where he could be with Elizabeth and their sons and daughters again, and nothing would be able to go wrong.

It was a bitter, horrid dream that Will had to, more than once, shake from his mind.

Shaking his head, Will scratched his arm, feeling the mild rash beneath his red blouse feel as though it was pulsing when he touched it. It had appeared a fortnight ago, first as a red circle and then spots began to appear. The captain flipped up the cuff of his sleeve to eye it again, for the billionth time wondering what could cause an immortal man to possess such a fiery inflammation. It was then Will's eyes widened and the fabric slipped from his fingers before he picked it up again.

It was no longer a slightly red, feverish pattern of bumps running from his elbow to his wrist; green-tinged scales swathed his arm, as though shielded in armor, and tiny white barnacles that belonged on a giant whale decorated the crevices of his skin, nearly encasing his wrist. Will ran his hand over the fish-like limb again and again, his breath catching, blood rushing into his cheeks.

He had ferried souls. He had never strayed, and for the past year and a half, he had never returned to the world of the living to visit his beloved. Will would never corrupt his purpose, therefore corrupting himself, and he trembled when he felt the slick exterior again. Something was terribly wrong; he could feel it beating through his veins.

After lugging back on his boots, Will bolted from the chamber, nervously playing with his sleeve as he bounded up the steps toward the helm. He glanced over his shoulder, and for a mere second, he saw Elizabeth gliding toward him in a sheer nightgown, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, but a darkness lurking in her eyes. Will squinted, looking closer, and realized that she was transparent; as transparent as a ghost, and when he turned around to move closer, she disappeared.

Did that mean Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, was dead? Dying? Hurt? He managed the trek up the staircase in a complete daze and faced Bootstrap Bill Turner.

"How do I summon Calypso?" Will asked.

"Calypso?" Bootstrap shook his head, the grey tint to his curious eyes fading. "Davy Jones never sought her out, Will. I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to."

Will gritted his teeth and then, with a hesitant glance around the ship, he showed his father the scaly patch of skin.

His father's hoarse voice lowered, "What's the meaning of that?"

"I don't know," Will replied. "I have ferried souls. I have done my duty that Calypso endowed me with. I can't… Make out what I have done."

"Is not you that has ruined t'ings," a voice ricocheted. "Is your lover, William Turner, whose nature is mine."

Will spun around to see Calypso, leaning over the stern of the ship, black dreadlocks hanging down the back of her russet colored gown. The pungent smell of mud and saltwater struck him like a mound of bricks as he approached the sea witch, and Will gazed into her back, wanting to accuse of her bewitching him, of ruining his life, of every horrid thought that had ever entered his brain. But Will merely clenched his fists.

"Elizabeth is faithful to me," he said. "She would not—"

"Oh, but William, I know you, and you have fallen prey to someone who you cannot trust with your heart."

"That isn't true, and if it was— I have not corrupted my purpose, as Jones' did. There is no reason for me to become like him. I have done the duty you bestowed on me, Calyspo. I have never faltered."

She swirled around, deep circles beneath her eyes as she hissed, "Oh but you have! She has corrupted your purpose and she has corrupted you."

Will flinched, entirely confused. Calypso slunk toward him like a graceful animal, and her slender fingers stroked his cheek. Will did not avoid the touch, not wanting to offend her in any way. He had to know what she meant; he had to know what had happened to Elizabeth.

The goddess' hand fell away from Will's face, and Calypso said, "While I gave you this duty, to ferry souls to the other side, Elizabeth is your purpose. She is what you live for. You belong to her, and so, when she betrayed you, you are the one that suffers."

Will drew in a shaky breath, the night air clinging to his lungs. "And so I will become like Davy Jones?"

She nodded, an evil glare tainting the sorrowful expression.

"Can anything be done to change it?"

Her head tilted to one side, and she looked as if it were her terms and her decision on whether Will continued his devotion to his wife. "Do you t'ink she loves you, William?"

"Yes," Will automatically said.

"Then you may see her." She paused, her fingers curling. "Seven days."

"And what of the souls?"

"They can wait," she said. "And if she does not love you, perhaps you…" She tenderly caressed his face again. "Can find another to love. Another to take her place so you do not turn as Davy Jones did."

"Beyond this one, to visit my wife," he enunciated the word, "I will not receive any offers from you."

"Very well," she said. "But a pity you chose a woman with such untamable qualities. After Davy Jones', how could you not see through her?" She released a soft laugh, as if everything she had said was a joke. "Is like looking at me."

Will's teeth grinded together and he closed his eyes, inhaling his fury to the pit of his stomach. "Elizabeth did not betray me as you did to Davy. She did not—"

"Do not speak of things you do not know!" she cried.

Will's voice pitched to a louder level. "Do you know where she is?"

"She is not on the sea, therefore she is not part of my sight."

"And Jack? Do you know of his whereabouts?"

"Ahh," she whispered. "Jack Sparrow. That I can tell you."


	2. Chapter 2: Desperate

I apologize for the gap between these two chapters. I struggled with this one. Jack's dialogue and who was on which side, so to speak, and how the details factored into the rest of the story... It all means nothing to you, for now, but I had to wrestle with a lot, and it didn't help I had barely any time.

Anyway, I'm hoping I'll be able to post the other chapters quicker. I have them more planned out in my mind. Prepare yourself for a different AU. No little William III. No chipper Elizabeth. No conniving Elizabeth, either. I'm venturing into dark places.

And thank you for the reviews! I really do appreciate it!

And just FYI, I will be switching between vantage points. You won't see the inner workings of Elizabeth for a while, which is quite unusual if you know my fics!

And Jack is intentionally... I don't know.. A little off. He's still pretty scarred. The same ol' Jack, but you know, I don't believe Johnny Depp or the writers when they say Jack is completely unchanging. He has to change... Slightly. Even if it's only really internally done. I'm exploring that... perhaps... All right. I'll stop ranting.

ENJOY!

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_L'Amour,_ a young, vibrant sloop that had only hours before coursed through the buoyant waves like an animal set alight, now lolled in the ocean, its captain in a mutual stance, his wiry body slumped over a jaggedly cut map. Jack Sparrow's bejeweled fingers spun the wheel on the Chinese charts, and thousands of curses flew through his mind. None of this was according to plan, and he was fairly certain his ship was pointing the wrong direction.

That was just brilliant.

He was supposed to have his lady, the _Black Pearl_, back under his possession by now. Instead, Barbossa was beating her to death; ripping her beautiful sails, pushing her to limits she had known so well before by the bellow of his voice. It wasn't healthy for her, and it wasn't healthy for Jack Sparrow not to have a well-provisioned, trustworthily- manned ship. Not even Gibbs was on board!

His gaze flicking to the map, Jack wished he could cup eternal life in his hands right then, the Aqua de Vida promising to resolve the problem of eventually dying and not meeting all of his expectations of seeing the world.

Thus far, however, his luck was running on low, and unfortunately, so was the rum.

Grabbing a nearby onion bottle, his lips gently pressed to the cool neck, debating on if it was worth it to take the last swig.

It would mean facing his crew again when he reached into the cellar.

It would also mean slipping between their fingers before they realized their captain's compass was acting strange again.

Eh.

Jack angled the bottle upwards and felt the last gulp trickle down his throat; yes, indeed, rum did never fail to make things better. After rolling the chart back into his inner pocket, Jack staggered from his seat and took over the helm, dismissing the young sailor with barely a glance.

It was good to be infamous. Everyone respected you then. Everyone knew of you and your tales upon the mighty sea. As for believing them, well that was their business, not Jack's.

He checked the compass again, watching the blood red dial whirl 'round and 'round before resting on one direction, and then clamped shut the case, finding himself disgruntled by what he saw. The contraption was a fickle thing, and Jack was very glad it had no actual bearing on his heart's desire.

By nightfall, the sloop was stationary again and no longer listening to Jack's commands. The waves suddenly turned turbulent, crashing into the hull and causing panic among the mangy pirates. Jack gripped onto the helm, shouting blind directions at his crew and hastily forming a plan. The nearest port was not a port he wished to be seen at, and the closest island was not meant for his feet to walk upon.

Quandary.

Well, it merely meant he would have to urge the sloop on.

No storm brewed above and no hurricane whirled below, and yet the canvas sails whipped as if high winds were amidst the men, and the once sparkling, starry sky darkened ominously. It was a curious thing. Unique weather had no place in Jack's plans, though, and he looked upon the white caps of the waves as an omen; a very bad omen, to be sure.

When the waves finally stopped stirring, a great vessel of Dutch design exploded through a whirl of spewing water, and Jack recognized it immediately even in the black of the night, his eyes widening.

So Captain Turner couldn't resist checking up on him.

Unexpected didn't quite explain Jack's feelings.

The sea bubbled and foamed, finally settling around the ships as they halted close to one another, and Jack dutifully clamored into a longboat and stroked toward _The Flying Dutchman_, a lantern planted beside him as he wondered what dear William could possibly have to say. A question perhaps? About oh-what's-her-face? Or an inquiry into the world of pirating?

All seemed unlikely. With only a year and six months under his belt, what could the captain of _The Flying Dutchman_ want from him, Jack Sparrow, the pirate without immortality, without a ship, and without rum.

Jack slowly climbed up the gangway, and while the vessel still retained its menacing exterior, with a sailfish's mouth of teeth and cannons spread hither and thither, there was a general ease about the ship that calmed him. Jack appreciated the refurbishment; he envied the ability to improve a ship and its crew. There was talent in that.

Eyes pinned to him, Jack hopped on board and scanned the well-lit deck, not particularly looking for Will. Instead, he noticed that while the main cannons were in pristine condition and begging to be employed, the majority were gone. Removed. Disappeared.

What a waste.

They would've been a great addition to his _Pearl _when he got it back (not "if." WHEN)_. _He also noted a paranormal flush emanating from the dank floor, illuminating everything in an emerald green glow.

"Jack," Will's voice boomed toward him, and he spotted the young captain bounding down the steps from the helm.

Outfitted in a black cotton vest with matching trousers, Will stalked toward the pirate, and Jack couldn't resist delighting in the fact that Will still adorned his head with a sea-green bandana. Blacksmith to Pirate. He quite liked the huge alteration; it made business much easier for him.

"William," Jack said evenly.

"I need your help."

A bad sign.

"Elizabeth—"

"Is in grave danger and has so obligingly put you in the position to rescue her, but you cannot feasibly do it alone." Jack finished for him in one breath. "Who causes the disturbance betwixt the Turners? Cursed pirates?"

"No, she—"

"Is locked up in a brig somewhere?"

Will's face contorted. "No."

"Enslaved by a pirate lord?"

"Jack," Will cut the man off, his eyes narrowing. "I don't know what's happened, but we must find her."

"Shouldn't you be fetching souls?" Jack asked, his index finger accusingly pointing toward the man.

Will said quietly. "Elizabeth has betrayed me, Jack. Have you seen her?"

His tone was desperate, and Jack noticed how Will anxiously touched his right arm, clearly agitated by something beneath the white fabric of his blouse. Jack's eyebrows furrowed, and he wondered about this professed betrayal. Elizabeth loved William with such great intensity, it was beyond simple words; Jack had learned that the hard way. But betrayal was not beyond Elizabeth. No, Elizabeth would do anything. Well… Almost anything.

"And by aiding in this venture of yours, what do I gain?"

Sparrow was always one to bargain; never one to merely concede.

"Gain?" Will clarified. "I have nothing to offer."

Jack's eyes eagerly drifted over the magnificent vessel.

"No," Will said.

Jack scrunched up his nose, and his eyes rolled from the floor and up to Will's twisted frown. "You owe me one."

"Excuse me?" Will's eyebrows furrowed, and his fidgeting hand finally slid down to the hilt of his sword, reminding Sparrow of Will's unmatched skills.

The lover boy was quite vexed by this predicament. Jack could see it pulsing behind his eyes, and nerves gnawed on the end of Jack's thoughts. Desperation was a tricky emotion to deal with: there was no consoling, there was no sane thought once it ravaged your mind, and there was no way to escape it. You would go to any lengths. You would go to the end of the world and back. Jack knew that feeling; Jack had mastered that feeling less than two years ago, and as much as he loathed it, the pirate never wished to feel that again, and he now had to use that deep and unyielding anguish. Use it against Will to protect himself.

"I saved your life, and your bonny wife too."

"I defeated Beckett with you," Will nearly snarled. "Consider that payment."

"You had your own vendettas against the white-wigged miscreant, mate, and consequently, I have a proposition to put to ye."

As Will sighed heavily, Jack scooped out the miniature version of the charts and pursed his lips together as he attempted to flatten the material out in the air. It immediately curled to his fingertips again, and he stretched the map again, gritting his yellow teeth. He turned the chart toward Will, who snatched the Chinese coordinates out of Jack's grip in one smooth motion.

"And what am I finding for you this time?" Will asked. "Another bloody key?"

Jack tapped the map. "No, something much more valuable."

"The Aqua de Vida?" Will's eyes widened.

"Eternal life," Jack said. "No consequences. No boundaries." His kohl-masked eyes danced at the promising thought. "The _last _pirate of the seven seas." He cocked a half-smile, and Will shook his head. "Besides you, that is."

Will grimaced. "And what must I do?"

Jack tilted slightly, his arms swinging at his waist as he grabbed the chart from Will and returned it to his coat. "Lead me to Barbossa and his crew of mutinous malefactors."

"You will lead me to Elizabeth." It was half-question, half-statement.

"Yes," he said. "I shall take you to your perfidious better half so you can win her heart once again." You would think once would be enough, Jack snidely thought. "We can take my ship," Jack added, gesturing over the railing to the grandeur of his little sloop and hoping the love-sick boy had a better vessel in mind for the voyage.

Will rolled his eyes. "We'd best take mine."

"Only if you insist," Jack said.

-*-*-*-

The captain begrudgingly returned to _L'Amour,_ commanding his crew to make port and stay there. Fortunately, his infamy had yet to wear off, and Jack threatened the grungy sailors that if any man disobeyed or attempted to commandeer his ship, hell would hath no fury like a Turner scorned.

_The Flying Dutchman_ did have its advantages, despite the fact that Will and Bootstrap forbid him from manning the helm, and Jack cheerfully scoured the ship for artifacts of Davy Jones in the meantime. After all, he needed a trinket to truly tell a superior tale of the monstrous creature and his love affair with Calypso; yes, the ladies certainly would appreciate it if Jack could only find that blasted locket.

As the last chamber to be searched, the music room was also the filthiest. Crustaceans still clung to the musty green walls, twitching when Jack ventured too close, and the yellow-tinged organ was still plastered on as if cemented by the slimy soul of Jones'.

Creepy.

Jack tip-toed around the place, his fingers brushing the keys but never resting too long, for he did not wish to hear any sound relating to that ruddy git, and he carefully thumbed through the sticky drawers for the remains of Davy's tortured life.

"Jack?"

He whirled around, his arms bouncing, his fingers unintentionally slamming on the white and black keys, and a voluminous sound swelled within the chamber. Will winced, and he walked forward, meeting Jack by the organ.

"What are you searching for?"

"Nothing," Jack said quickly.

Will shrugged, his eyes never locking with the man's. "I'm losing her, Jack."

Oh, boy. He had heard this before.

"I see her now, in ghost form, but only in glimpses, like she's only partially dead... Or dying."

Jack sealed his lips together; it was best to let Will get to the root of the problem on his own.

"And she looks peaceful except for her eyes. Her eyes are dark. Sad." Will frowned, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "She promised to keep my heart safe."

Jack meandered away, nearing the crusty walls again and idly prying at the crevices. It was rather ironic that Elizabeth gave her heart away to someone who didn't have one, now that he thought about it, and he watched William out his peripheral vision.

"Mate, are you certain—?"

"Calypso," he practically frothed at the mouth when he said the word. "She visited. By deceiving me, just like Calypso did to Davy, Elizabeth has corrupted my purpose."

Because Elizabeth WAS Will's purpose.

Yes, Jack knew that fact very well.

He had warned Will about this. If he locked his heart away, he was sure to lose Elizabeth. That's what he had said, and he had meant it, at the time. Women weren't very dependable. Actually, humans weren't very dependable. That's why Jack preferred to rely on ships; they were always attentive and never strayed unless by force. No human could say that.

"And how do you think you'll woo the lady back to the Turner team?" Jack asked impishly.

"I haven't figured that part out yet," Will said.

He was hoping love was enough.

Mmm… Love.

Silly thing.

"Where do you think she is?" Will asked.

"Shipwreck City," Jack said.

"Think," was a horrid word in this case and astoundingly inaccurate. Jack didn't think. He knew where Mrs. Turner laid her head to rest each night.

"Why there? She never said…"

"Because," Jack said slowly, his eyes darting. "I visited her there."


	3. Chapter 3: Anywhere but Here

(OT: I'm SO SO SORRY! for the lack of updates. Working and a social life don't mix well with writing time, unfortunately. I don't have much to say about this chapter except... It is what it is, and I actually wished it was a bit better, but it's satisfying for now.... Elizabeth is not who you or Will and Jack remember...)

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If it had been any other day, Will would have been outraged that he had been fooled again by Jack Sparrow. Shipwreck City. It was a day's journey away when Will had expected a long, tenacious voyage and had expected to spend hours twiddling his thumbs over what was and what might've been.

If Jack had only told him so, Will could've sailed there in a split second. He could've found Elizabeth faster. He could've held his beloved in his arms and planted kisses down her neck and whispered his love for her

Instead, his mind strayed from any thoughts of her whereabouts and whirled about Jack's last comment instead.

"I visited her there."

"Why?" Will asked, the same simple question pulsing through his mind repeatedly.

Was Jack the one? Was Elizabeth… Truly in love with Jack? Or vice versa?

It was against everything she had ever said to him.

And yet, it made sense, didn't it? He watched Elizabeth kiss him, her mouth swallowing his, their bodies pressed together as if that was the way it was supposed to be. He had watched her risk her life for his and follow in the footsteps of the pirate. Jack was the man Elizabeth dreamt about; he was her soul mate, and Will was merely the one she inevitably chose and loved in the end.

"Jack," Will said louder. "Why did you go there?"

Jack's eyes crunched into slits as he sauntered back over to the organ; his fingers brushed the keys once more, never pushing them down hard enough to produce a heavy sound. Will flinched again. He never wanted to hear that instrument again. It managed to evoke too many memories. Too many flashbacks of the past.

"I needed her, mate," Jack quietly said.

Will's fists clenched, the gaping hole in his chest teaming with swarms of rage and jealously and pain. So that was it then. They had been… Together. Will stalked forward, seething fury coiling within him.

Jack smoothly turned around, his arms swaying, and he continued quickly, "Sao Feng's charts." He withdrew them and cautiously crept back toward Will, his eyes darting over the man's flushed face. "See, there."

Will gazed down to the circular map and saw a rough rendering of his wife's beauty residing close to Jack Sparrow's portrait. Will shuddered upon seeing the chart again, and the word, "haunted," came to mind.

"And what does it mean?"

"Haven't a clue," Jack muttered, clearly vexed by the fact. "She didn't know either."

Will pursed his lips, pacing in front of Jack without even realizing it. It was an innocent visit, according to Sparrow. But why did Elizabeth live there, in Shipwreck City, when she swore that it was a place that would torture her day and night because of the atmosphere and pirates who knew her story? Why? There were thousands of cities where Elizabeth could wait for him. Places that provided a safe harbor and a fresh start. No one would know Elizabeth Swann-Turner as the pirate king, and no one would know her husband was destined to rove the seas if she wandered to a far off city.

And yet she stayed. She settled in the most notorious place on the planet.

Jack opened his mouth multiple times, as if to say something, but no sound ever emitted from the man's lips, and no unspoken thought passed between the men.

"Did she look ill?" Will finally asked.

Jack's eyes rolled in thought. "No. Mrs. Turner was in tip top shape."

Will noticed the extra emphasis on Elizabeth's married title, but it only sent waves of unease through his stomach. Jack was leaving out something. It was a mixture between a feeling, an instinct, and a fleeting thought. It would be like Sparrow to "forget" an important fact. Will stepped toward the man.

"You would tell me if something was wrong," Will said. "You would tell me if she was with someone or appeared ill."

Jack grimly nodded, his expressive eyes meeting William's.

Will's fingers twitched, and he then turned and fled the chamber, retreating to the captain's quarters for an unsatisfying night's sleep.

He glided in and out of horrific dreams.

In white rags, Elizabeth tumbled to the moist ground, a lantern launched from her hand, and it shattered in front of her, setting alight the grasses and engulfing her body in seconds. She screamed Will's name.

Will gasped awake, only to fall back into slumber.

She wrapped herself around Jack, her fingers playing in his black hair, and the wicked pirate grinned before shoving her off. Blood spouted from the middle of her chest, soaking through her beautiful gown and dripping down her waist. It was then he realized Jack had broken her heart.

Will juddered in the bed, knowing he was dreaming, but when he struggled to emerge from sleep, something bolted him back down to the bed and cast a terrifying drugged state to his mind.

Calypso latched onto Will, caressing his face and she then turned into Elizabeth, and he kissed her gently, at first. He spun her in a circle, feeling voluptuous curves that didn't belong to his wife, and he guided her down, down to the bed. He kissed her lips again but froze when he heard Calypso's voice say, "The one you most desire."

"NO!"

Will opened his eyes.

-*-*-*-*-*-

Silently, Jack and Will meandered through the bustling city, and although Jack was fully accustomed to the happenings of Shipwreck Cove, he couldn't help but investigate the shops and smile when the heavily-rouged girls glided past. He watched the man pause, squint, and resume the route leading past the Brethren Court's residence, and Jack wondered why they were moving past the giant edifice adorned with vessels' hulls and sterns. When he last saw Mrs. Turner, she was living above Teague's quarters, strangely. Where was she now?

However, Jack didn't question dear William; instead he followed the boy like an obedient dog, watching the young man peer at a scrap of parchment in his hand, glance about, and then turn in whatever direction the paper instructed him toward.

Jack found the directions to Elizabeth's residence a real waste.

If Will wanted to find her, all he had to do was employ Jack's effective compass.

But Will insisted on doing it the hard way.

Thick-headed, he was.

But Jack could tell by Will's silence and furrowed eyebrows that he was in no mood to be trifled with, and Jack respected that.

Sighing as they turned another corner, Jack thought back to the early morning hours, when he had heavily implied he didn't want to come along for this adventure to find Elizabeth. No, no, no. He never wanted to tangle himself in love; it was too much of a web. Too many emotions flooding into one's mind and wracking one's body. Jack's insides quivered just thinking about the way his mind worked when fluttering emotions for Elizabeth filled him to the brim. He never wished to feel that way. Ever. Again.

Will skidded to a halt, his once shining black boots grinding into the musty dirt, and he grumbled something under his breath. Jack precariously peered over the man's shoulder, trying to make out the random scribblings over the paper.

"May I be of service?" Jack asked.

Will turned and glared at the pirate and then shoved the parchment into his hand.

Jack turned it in a circle until he found the name of the hotel, and he attempted to hide his discomfiture at the name. It was no ordinary hotel; in truth, it was a tavern of sorts that just happened to house a few maidens hither and thither. Jack called it the corrupted "Tortuga" of Shipwreck Cove. The tavern occasionally lodged strumpets for the sloshed men below. Other times, widows without money resided there, keeping her eyes peeled for a husband or a man to watch out for her when she had nothing and no one to rely on.

What category did Elizabeth fall into then?

Jack gulped and waved for William to follow down an alleyway, scores of drunken men slumped along buildings' brick walls.

"You know of it?" Will asked, his eyes lighting up as he trudged alongside Jack.

"I know it," Jack replied simply. Will's eyes whirled to the ground, and the pirate added, "Well, come on then. Let's get on with it."

Striding forward, Jack wandered through the cornucopia of scents and flavors that inhabited the shoddiest part of Shipwreck, breaking apart two agroing blokes as he shoved through the door of Lady May's Tavern. Above, carved in the mahogany woodwork, a bare-breasted mermaid with flowing locks cupped her hands to the sky, as if releasing a delicate butterfly. Innocent in nature. Devious in design.

Will trailed him into the pub, and immediately, Jack watched Turner's face crumple and then dribble down his chin. The place was crawling with the scum of the earth. Filthy men snatched women into their arms, latching onto their necks with their nasty lips and pausing only to chug down a bottle of rum. Jack had stepped foot in this place only once, and he never went back in after he saw the condition of the women.

As Will statically observed the men brawling and the loose ladies swaying to the thrum of a broken guitar, Jack slithered over to a barmaid and asked for Elizabeth Swann, only to correct himself hastily and say, "Turner."

The girl, dark skinned with jet black hair and a gown to match, pointed up the spiral staircase. She grinned, touching Jack's chin with the tip of her finger. "Second door on da left, dear, but I doubt you'll find her 'dere. Miss Turner is a wanderer!"

Jack curled his lips and returned to Will's side. He inclined his head toward the stairs, and with his shoulders sagging, Will staggered forward. He was confounded, Jack was certain, to see this God-forsaken place and know that his beloved slept there each night. It was a disturbing thought; feisty Elizabeth was living here. Here?

It was impossible.

No.

Improbable.

Ascending the steps first, he quietly warned Will not to grab the railing; a chunk of fractured wood broke off in his hand when he lost his balance last time. It took him weeks to remove the splinters, and although he usually let people learn lessons on their own, Jack felt as though it was his duty to save the boy some pain; remorse began to eat away at him for the loss of Elizabeth, for she could not be whole in this ragged place, and he had somehow managed to not notice her distraught being months ago when he entered the Brethren Court. He owed Will. Even in the slightest of ways.

The thump of his own boots made Jack want to run, but he resisted the urge to turn, knowing he'd have to face the love-sick, entirely troubled man behind him. Instead he sidled up to the second door on the left and knocked.

He rapped on the door again when no one answered and his fingers trembled as he felt Will's eyes travel the length of the chambers again.

"Let me," Will said, and Jack stepped aside.

William jiggled the doorknob and gently allowed the door to sling open, sudden light effusing into their expressionless faces. Scattered lanterns and candles illuminated the cluttered bedchamber, and Jack and Will's gaze breezed over clumps of clothing, sullied bed sheets, and bottles of alcohol.

"This isn't her room," Will said. "It cannot be…"

"Will," a feathery voice said. "Will."

The men turned in unison.

Jack's murky eyes widened at the sight of her.

Layered golden locks no longer dropped at her gaunt shoulders, framing her beautiful face. Thick, dusty blonde hair tumbled below her bust line in its place, pushed back behind her small ears and extenuating her pointy cheekbones. Her complexion, once fair and unblemished, was now chalky. A deathly white. Jack took a step back, aghast when his eyes trailed the woman's body. Wearing only a thin, white nightgown, he could see the frail outline of her calves and the jutting of her hips. This was not Elizabeth; this was her ghost. The body of an older Elizabeth. Of a sick Elizabeth.

The Elizabeth he knew was a terrifying woman. Fierce to the bone. Pirate coursing through her veins.

Or that was who she was.

She floated into Will's arms and kissed his cheeks, her arms linking about his neck.

"She was right," Elizabeth whispered. "You're more beautiful than I imagined. You're perfect." Her frail hands traced his cheeks. "Beautiful," she said. "Now the pain will go away. I won't hurt anymore. Will it stop soon? Minutes or seconds? I don't know if it matter with you here. You make me feel light."

Words poured from her mouth like rain from the sky, but Will interjected her quickly. "What pain, Elizabeth?"

"The pain." A shiver swept through the woman, and Jack nearly removed his jacket for her. "She said you knew of the pain."

"Who did?"

"Don't you know?" Her eyes squeezed together, as if trying to remember important details, and she added, "If I am dead, why do I still feel this way, Will? Why? How can you be so perfect, and I still so sick? Why isn't it leaving? Will? Don't you know?"

She wasn't making any sense at all, and her words were striking Will like daggers. He could see it as Will's jaw quivered. Instinctually, Jack backed slowly away, only to feel the woman's eyes lock onto him.

"Jack," she hissed. "Jack Sparrow." Crooked teeth glinted at him, and her pallid eyes tried to dance like they used to. "You're dead too?"

"What's she talking about?" Will asked.

Jack frowned and shook his head. "You're not dead, Elizabeth."

Her eyebrows steered toward each other, and her hands fell away from Will and swung at her sides. "What?"

"You're alive," Will said. "We are here. We are alive."

"No," she shouted. "No!"

Whipping around, Elizabeth dove into her bedchamber and slammed the door shut, and the clinking of the lock shortly followed thereafter. After trying to coax his wife out of the chamber for several minutes, Will banged into the wooden door, the frame cracking as he rattled the doorknob. Jack shrunk, trying to shrivel away, wishing he had stayed aboard the Flying Dutchman.

It was much safer there.

Actually, it was much safer anywhere but here.

Will kicked the door, calling Elizabeth's name, telling her he could help her. He and Jack were there to help.

So much for innocent bystander.

The door finally creaked open, and Elizabeth's eyes, now reddened and bloodshot, still blinked away tears. She opened her mouth to speak and then she fell forward, her limp body caught between Will's arms.


End file.
